


Incorrigible Rose

by RobinMistySaddle



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Mental Health Issues, Teen Angst, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 04:18:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12124353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinMistySaddle/pseuds/RobinMistySaddle
Summary: John was an over-protective single dad as Rosie grew up.  15 years later, things haven't gone so well.





	Incorrigible Rose

“I don’t know where she is,” the voice on the other end of the line said. “She didn’t come home after school. Nobody’s seen her. She’s not answering her mobile, or at least texting me. I-I-I just don’t know.”

“I’ll find her,” Sally said and hung up her mobile.

She found her sitting on the steps of the Mayfair Library. “Rosie,” Sally called as she got out of her car.

Rose looked up from her book. “Did my dad call you? Or Uncle Sherlock?”

“It was your dad,” Sally said as she shut the car door and strolled over to the library. “Mind if I sit?”

“Whatever. I don’t care. Do what you want. Just so you know, I was inside the entire evening until they closed and I’ve been sitting here since.” Rose went back to reading her book, the area illuminated by the pale streetlights.

Sally sat down and looked out at the street and the few cars passing by.

Finally Rose lowered her book. “Are you going to ask me anything?” she demanded. “Or take me home?”

“No,” Sally said non-commitally, and continued to sit in silence.

After a minute, Rose slammed her book shut and turned to Sally. “Dammit, just say something.”

“Is there something you want to say to me?” Sally turned to look at Rosie, her eyes flicking over her face and down her arms.

“You would do that, wouldn’t you?” she accused Sally, putting her book carefully into her backpack and then slumping forward, resting her arms across her knees and her chin on her arms.

“Rosie...” Sally started, but then trailed off.

Rose sat up and stared hard at Sally. “You were trying to see if I have bloodshot eyes or dilated pupils. I’m sure you’ve been trying to tell if you can smell alcohol or pot on me the entire time you’ve been sitting here. And your eyes flicked down to check my wrists. I haven’t had anything, so no, I’m not drunk or high.” She thrust out her arms at Sally, wrists up and hands bent down, showing off the faint scars. “Nothing there either. I can fucking out deduce you. I had the best fucking teacher.” She folded her arms and slumped forward again.

“I’m just checking to make sure you’re ok,” Sally tried to explain.

“So this is a welfare check. Got it. Here on official business.” She stood up, picking up her backpack as she did and slung it over her left shoulder. “You can take me home then.” She walked over to the car and opened the back door.

“You can sit up front, if you want,” Sally said as she followed her over, pulling out her mobile to quickly text before dropping it back into her pocket.

Rose stared at her, chewing on her tongue, before silently closing the back door and opening the front. She dropped into the seat and slouched down, just enough, so that the seatbelt wouldn’t chafe her neck.

Sally got into the car, started it, and began driving until she got to the A4. 

“Hey, where are you taking me?” Rose glowered. “I thought you were going to take me home.”

“Actually, I didn’t say where I was taking you,” Sally replied, trying not to get annoyed. “We’re going to go some place else first.” She got the sense that if Rose could slouch even more, she would. Sally turned on the radio to Radio 2. 

Rose listened to the music for a little bit and then reached over and switched it to Radio 5. It was some sort of sport call-in show. Sally noticed that for the most part Rose looked out the window at the passing city, but when somebody called about cricket, she turned her head slightly and tilted it. Sally drove on, not saying anything.

By the time they reached Chobham, Rose was sleeping, gently snoring. Sally had left the radio on, not changing the channel, even though it had switched from sport to a news programme. As she parked the car in the driveway, Rose snorted and woke. 

“Huh?” she said, blinking and looking around. “Oh.” She sounded faintly disappointed.

“Come on,” Sally said, getting out and stretching. “It’s just us out here tonight.” She opened the door and turned on the lights. Rose followed her in, dropping her bag to the floor by the door, and then headed back to the kitchen and sat on a stool while Sally put the kettle on. “You want anything?”

Rose shrugged. 

Sally fished her mobile out of her jacket, texting, until the kettle whistled. She poured two cups of tea. “Milk? Sugar?”

“Both, but I probably won’t drink it,” she warned, her voice still thick with sleep.

“Don’t worry about it.” She put the cup in front of Rose who immediately wrapped her hands around it, holding it, but not picking it up. “Just so you know, Alan is away with a trial in Yorkshire this week.”

Rose shrugged. “Ok,” she said, and then added, “He’s a dork, you know.”

Sally sat down next to her on the other stool. “I know. The things he drones on and on about. But he’s my dork.” She sipped her tea. “What was it this time?”

Rose shrugged again. “Don’t know. You know how it is. Just...”

“Boys? Girls? School? Dad? Am I even close?” she probed.

“Why do you even live out here?” Rose asked, getting up and looking out the kitchen window. “You might as well live in Scotland.”

“I spend all day in London. We’re not that far away, and it’s nice and quiet out here.”

“I couldn’t imagine not being in London. There’s just so much to see and do.”

“I grew up in the Heygate estate,” Sally explained patiently, “which was notorious for poverty and crime in my day. I always dreamed of living some place pretty much the opposite; out in the country, away from the noise and pollution, and mostly just quiet. So I made sure I did right, kept clean, and got out of there.” She gestured around. “It would be a lovely place to raise a family, and it’s not like I’m not always in London if I wanted to do something there.”

“Oh,” Rose said quietly.

“Look,” Sally said getting up and moving over to her, “Everybody has different experiences. I grew up with a mom and no dad. My mom came here from Jamaica and worked as a maid in a hotel. My dad? She said he worked for British Leyland on the assembly line but I’m guessing there was more she never wanted to tell me.”

“I didn’t know,” Rose said, still quiet.

“I’ve got to put on my police hat for a minute though.” She set her tea on the counter.

Rose sighed. “I last had a beer with my mate, Josie, last Tuesday. I smoked some weed at a party last month, but nothing else. I haven’t done anything else in a over a year. Are you going to have my dad send me to outpatient again?”

“And?” Sally pressed, ignoring the question.

“I haven’t cut myself again.” She said even quieter. She became very self-conscious of the scars and slipped her hands into her jeans pockets, looking down at her feet.. “Not...I put the blade there, just to...feel it, pressing it to feel...I didn’t do...anything.” She looked up, a black tear from each eye running down her cheeks from her mascara. “I don’t want to go to counseling again. I don’t want the pills. I can’t-” She pulled her hands out of her pockets and held out her arms.

Sally quickly went to her, hugging her tight as Rose started bawling. She stroked her hair as she comforted her. Rose struggled to draw deep breaths and eventually her sobs began to peter off.

She pulled back from Sally. “Oh, God. I must look like a mess. I’m sorry about your shirt.”

“It’s ok,” she reassured her. “If you go to the bathroom upstairs, you can get yourself cleaned up if it will make you feel better.”

Rose nodded and headed up the stairs and came back several minutes later, all the make-up gone. “Thanks,” she said and plopped back down on the stool. She picked up the tea and took a sip, making a face. “It’s not your tea. I’ve never liked tea. God knows Mrs. Hudson tried.”

“If you want to talk, we can,” Sally said, before slipping back into her police mode. “You know I’m going to tell your dad.”

“I know,” she said, sighing. “There’s nothing to talk about, though. Seriously. Dad won’t let me do anything.” She looked down into the tea cup.

“That’s it?” Sally asked.

Rose shrugged. “It’s stupid. I know.” She added softly, “I’m stupid.”

“No, you’re not.” Sally wanted to rub her hand over Rose’s back, but she sensed it wouldn’t be the best time.

“No, I am,” she sighed. “Shit. I mean he doesn’t even like me just hanging out with Uncle Sherlock if he’s not there.”

“Should I remind you of the time he let you play with nitroglycerin?” Sally said.

“Bring that up, just like Dad does.” She clenched the cup tightly.

“Your Uncle is...” She paused for a minute. “Well, he’s not the most responsible person. Putting it mildly.”

“You wanted to say ‘freak’,” she said harshly, but then softened her tone. “I know what you think of Uncle Sherlock. He’s told me. I get it.”

“Look,” Sally said, “There are many things I would trust Sherlock for, but none of them involve letting him care for a child.”

Rose sat silently gently rocking her cup back and forth, watching the liquid slosh around in it.

“Your dad really is trying to keep you safe,” she explained. “We all thought Sherlock was dead for a while, and he took it really hard. Then he lost your mom. And he’s absolutely terrified of losing you.”

“He doesn’t have to,” Rose said sullenly. “I’m not a kid any more. I just want to do things that my friends do. I’m lucky when I’m allowed to go to a party with my friends.”

“He knows what happens when you go to parties.”

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “Yeah, I drink and smoke weed and fuck. Like my friends. And all of a sudden I have to do drugs counseling. And no, I’m not going to end up like Uncle Sherlock.”

“You know it’s not just the drugs,” Sally said, trying to remain calm. “That’s bad enough. It’s also your risky behaviours with them.” She sighed. “I didn’t mean for it head this direction. Why don’t you get involved with an activity at school. That should keep your dad happy and it will let you get out a bit.”

Rose sighed. “I tried out for the cricket team a couple years ago. Didn’t make it.”

“I never knew you liked cricket,” Sally said.

“I don’t.” She spun her cup carefully.

Sally tilted her head to the side. “You tried out for the cricket team, you put on the sports call-in show on the radio in my car and any time there was anything about cricket you were paying attention. Seems to me that you like it.”

Rose didn’t say anything.

“What am I missing?” she asked.

“Do you know,” Rose said, looking up from the cup, tears rolling down her face, “how hard it is to talk to somebody that doesn’t want to talk about anything?” She sniffed. “There are two things I can talk to my dad about where we can have an actual conversation. He has no problem talking about medicine, which is, ugh, and then there’s cricket. I watch it on the telly, I listen to it on the radio, just so I can talk to him and we can have an actual fucking conversation. I don’t like cricket; he does.” She started crying again.

Sally moved to her now, sitting on the other stool, and put her arm across her shoulders. Rose leaned her head again Sally’s shoulder and cried, rubbing her eyes with her hand. Sally kissed the top of her head.

“God, I’m so fucked up,” Rose declared.

“No,” Sally reassured her, “But, I would like to look through your backpack. Can I do that? If you don’t want me to, I won’t.”

Rose nodded. Sally got up and Rose’s backpack from the hall. She brought it into the kitchen and began to unpack it, laying it out on the counter. There was a copy of _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ , her school uniform, some pens and pencils, her mobile, feminine products, and a simple pocket knife.

“Your dad said you didn’t respond to his texts today,” Sally said, “That’s different.”

Rose eventually nodded.

“Is that...” Sally pressed, but gently.

“Yeah,” Rose barely whispered.

“Ok,” Sally said and began to carefully back her belongings back in her backpack. She left the knife out. “Can I hold onto this for a little while?”

Rose shrugged. “You were going to keep it anyway.” She slumped forward.

There was an uncomfortable silence. The kitchen lights hummed faintly.

Rose looked up at Sally. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Sally said. “Anything.”

Rose stopped for a second, chewing on her tongue. “Not so much ask, but I want to tell you something. You never ask me ‘why’. Never, in all the times my dad or Uncle Sherlock has sent you after me.”

“It’s not really my place,” Sally said.

“It never stopped Greg, who, by the way, I think I’ve talked with more than my dad about just...whatever. But he would ask me. Oh, God, it was sooo annoying, but it showed he cared in his own stupid way.”

Sally couldn’t help but grin, thinking of how awkward it must have been for Greg to even to try to have a conversation with Rose without tripping over everything. “Rose...”

“I know,” she waved her hand, and then quickly wiped the tears from her face, sniffing. “I get it. The fact that you showed up, held my hand, took me home. You cared. But you’re the only person who’s never asked me ‘why’.”

“Did you want me to?” Sally asked.

“No, not really,” Rose admitted, sitting in silence for a few seconds, before saying, “It lets me feel...something. Everybody else gets to do stuff. Dad is just so...routine. I get up, go to school, come home, that’s pretty much it. He does his thing with work and with Uncle Sherlock, but I get to sit in my room all the time. My friends make plans with each other, but I don’t get to because Dad will say ‘no’. So when I can, I do something to just make me feel like there’s something...I don’t even care if it makes me feel good. Yeah, the drinking, the weed, the sex, all that, that feels good. But the hangover, the coming down, the shame, it feels bad. But I don’t care that it feels bad, just because it’s something that makes me feel. It’s why...it’s why I cut. I can feel it. I can’t explain it.” She stopped but before Sally could say anything, continued, “But today...I don’t even know why today. Something in school, maybe? Or just thinking about my dad. I don’t know. Today...” She stopped and swallowed hard, blinking back the tears. “I didn’t want to feel any more.” She held out her left arm. “I was in the library the entire time. I was just going to do it in the bathroom.”

Sally took her hand and looked. There was a slight scratch running not across her wrist, but for about an inch from her wrist up her arm. “Rosie...”

“I’m fucked up, Aunt Sally,” Rose said, barely above a whisper, pulling her arm back and wiping more tears from her eyes. “I’m so fucked up.”

Sally hugged her tight, tears welling up in her eyes. “We love you, Rosie. We all do, We’ll get you the help, whatever it is you need. All of us.”

She was able to get Rose to lie down in her bed. She sat on the bed next to her, holding her hand, until she fell asleep, and once again, could hear the gentle snoring. She carefully left the bed and headed back down to the kitchen to make the call.

“I hadn’t heard from you since you texted me,” John said when he answered. “Where are you?”

“Don’t worry,” Sally said, “We’re in Chobham. She’s asleep upstairs.”

“Is it bad?” John asked, worry in his voice.

“She needs love and support, John,” she said, “and she knows she needs that. And she knows she needs a lot of help. She’s very insightful.”

“Ok,” his voice trailed off for a second. “I’ve already been in contact with her counselor again.”

“I’m sure you’re going to do the right thing for Rosie and get her the help that she needs,” she said, taking a deep breath, before adding, “But if you don’t mind me saying, I don’t think you’ve ever gotten over the death of Mary, and you’ve spent Rosie’s entire life trying to keep her safe. It’s why Rosie is where she is. So, what are you going to do about getting help for yourself?”

**Author's Note:**

> Teenagers coping with substance abuse and mental health issues are a serious issue. If you, or somebody you know, is in need of support, please seek help immediately. You are loved.
> 
> While this diverges from my normal style, if you enjoyed what you read, please check out my other stories.


End file.
